


Five Times Spock Did Not Want a Pet, and One Time He Did

by goldvermilion87



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: Angst, Friendship, Gen, Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-01-28
Updated: 2011-01-28
Packaged: 2017-10-15 03:49:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 11,487
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/156746
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goldvermilion87/pseuds/goldvermilion87
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A 5 & 1 exploring the development of the relationship between Spock and Kirk.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Alien Animal

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into 中文 available: [五次Spock不想养宠物，还有一次他想](https://archiveofourown.org/works/869420) by [Christywalks](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Christywalks/pseuds/Christywalks)



  
_We beamed up this animal and…well, look for yourself. It's in the specimen cas_ e  
—Scotty, "The Enemy Within"

While Spock was content with his position as the chief science officer on the USS Enterprise, he could not deny that it came at a price.

He had joined Starfleet because he knew it would present unique opportunities for scientific discovery and research. His keen Vulcan intellect had made his quick promotion to the highest rank in the science department of the fleet's flagship inevitable, and now that he had attained the position, he was not displeased. (A very illogical voice inside of him whispered that perhaps his father's attitude towards his career choice would be softened by his success.) But with position came administrative duties, in particular the duty to oversee his fellow scientists, and make certain that everything was carried out according to regulation. Spock had brilliant men and women working under him, so this was not often a burden. But they had an emotional investment in their work, even an emotional attachment to their work, that he could not understand, and which manifested itself in curious ways — ways that at times made his job . . . challenging.

"Mr. Sulu!"

"Yes sir?" The young man looked rather puzzled by his stern tone of voice.

"What were you doing just now, ensign?"

"Just taking care of Gertrude."

"That is not a gertrude, it is a Rigellian snapping flower."

"Yes, I know, sir. Gertrude is the name I gave that particular plant."

"You gave the plant a name?"

"Yes sir. It's such a lively plant, it almost seems like an animal. So I named it. You know . . . like a pet."

"A pet?"

"Oh . . . on Earth humans keep animals in their homes and . . ."

"Yes, ensign, I am aware of the definition of the word "pet." However, I am surprised that a member of Starfleet would take so puerile an attitude towards the subjects of his study."

Both Mr. Sulu and another ensign near him had turned quite red. The second ensign, Ensign Patil, had covered her face in her hands, and her shoulders were shaking. Spock did not believe that his mild reprimand should have elicited that much . . . fear? . . . (He believed that was generally the emotion associated with shaking.) particularly from an ensign who was not being reprimanded. Interaction with humans was not in his area of expertise, and he would have to consider this situation further. At the moment, however, it was clear that he had made his point, if more sternly than he intended, so he walked out of the lab. As the door closed behind him, it shut out the sound of Ensign Patil, who had begun coughing loudly.

* * *

Rather unfortunately, Mr. Sulu was not the only man in the science department who displayed an illogical attachment to the subjects of his experiments.

Spock approved of enthusiasm in his scientists. A Vulcan did not need to be emotionally invested in his work to perform admirably, but Spock observed that humans performed their tasks with more care and precision when they enjoyed what they did. After consideration, he had decided that he would not say anything else about Mr. Sulu's plants, as his naming them did no harm, and he worked assiduously when he was on duty.

Spock did not, however, approve of madness. And the enthusiasm of some of his younger scientists could not be accurately described in any other way.

For example, one of the biologists discovered several hours after leaving Alpha 177 that the second horned quadruped they beamed up after the first met its untimely end, was pregnant. It gave birth, Spock knew from the record, to fifteen young. A month later it had only fourteen. The culprit was an intelligent young zoologist, who had done very well in the academy, and was on her first assignment. She loved animals, and she paid dearly for it: the creature she had taken from the lab had an affinity for brightly colored things, like clothes, and jewelry, and pictures, and knick-knacks. Despite this, Ensign Rayburn declared that "Snuffles" was adorable, and wept when Spock insisted that it be returned to the science labs. Spock was sure that the desire to retain a creature that destroyed and would continue to destroy one's possessions must be a sign of mild insanity.

* * *

Aside from plant life, the only living things that the crew of the _Enterprise_ found on Eta Piscium II were tiny, fourteen-legged creatures. The largest specimen that his scientists measured was about 5.35 cm long, and the smallest 2.876 cm. Their bodies were in eight segments, with two legs on each segment but the first, like elongated insects. Their heads were a deep orange, and the remaining seven segments were covered in blue fur. Spock found them to be fascinating. Apparently the captain did as well, for when Spock showed one to him, he said something incomprehensible about a "very hungry caterpillar," and called the new chief medical officer, Dr. McCoy, over to look at it. This course of action led to an argument between the captain and the doctor, in which the words "blue" and "green" featured prominently, but as it sounded to Spock unscientific, if not illogical, he ignored it as best he could.

No one in any of the three landing parties that went down while they were orbiting the planet was ever able to find the creatures' nests or homes. One scientist suggested that they did not need shelter, because they had no natural predators. However, since the heavy rainfall on Eta Piscium II had a very low pH, and another scientist discovered that the creatures were very sensitive to water-based acid solutions, this could not be the case. The members of the science department, therefore, collected over one hundred of the creatures, and created a large terrarium that simulated the planet's environment, so they could continue to study the creatures after they left orbit. They were dubbed "kullats" by Ensign Rayburn, who seemed to have a fondness for naming things. Spock allowed the name to be used in the logs because it was logical to name the creatures after the star their planet orbited, rather than because he was concerned about a possible deluge of tears if he refused.

"Honestly, Commander Spock, I don't think there is anything else to learn about these kullats. It seems to me that they're surprisingly hardy, but otherwise useless . . . sort of like cockroaches on Earth."

Because he had sensitive Vulcan ears, Spock overheard Ensign Patil hiss, "See, Gloria! I told you they were bugs," to Ensign Rayburn.

"Lieutenant Martin, I fail to see how their similarity to the cockroach is relevant. There must be an explanation for their survival, particularly since they are sensitive to the rain on their planet. It is your job, and the job of this department, to discover it. If I decide that you should be working on another project, I will inform you of your new duty. Until then, I want to see you working diligently to learn all that you can about the kullats."

"Yes, Sir."

Spock admitted to himself that the creatures were proving to be less fascinating than he had first anticipated. If there had been another project that needed Lieutenant Martin's attention, Spock would have put the investigation of the kullats on an indefinite hiatus, but the Enterprise had not sent a landing party down to any new planet in a week and a half, and the science department was not busy. Until something else needed to be done, the lieutenant could continue to pursue the question of how the kullats protected themselves from their planet's rainfall.

"Lieutenant Martin to Commander Spock."

"Spock here. What is it Lieutenant?"

"Commander Spock! I've found it!"

"The intercom is not malfunctioning, Lieutenant. There is no reason to shout."

"Sorry, sir. It's just that I've seen how the kullats protect themselves! I simulated a very light rainfall over one of them, and . . . well, sir . . . I don't know exactly what he did, but he sort of . . . dove . . . into the plastic wall of the container I had him in . . . like he was diving into the water, or into a hole, but there was no hole. There is no hole. It is completely sealed!"

"Fascinating. When you have determined the process by which the kullat does this, report to me. I will be on the bridge."

"Yes, sir."

"Spock out."

* * *

"Captain Kirk, I'm getting reports that replicators are malfunctioning all over the ship."

"Tell them Scotty's trying to fix it, Lieutenant Uhura. And tell them that there are proper channels to go through for problems like this. We don't run maintenance from the bridge, so we don't need to hear about every single malfunction on the ship."

"Yes, Captain."

"I never thought it would get so dull on this ship that I'd have to hear about every door and replicator and . . ."

"Engineering to bridge."

"Kirk here."

"Scott here. Captain, I cannae understand what's going on. I had some of ma men fixing the door down on Deck Two, and they found a bunch a' wires tangled together . . . like they'd melted, sir, but there was no reason for it. And then, sir, there are the replicators — the first two had the same problem. We need ta know what's wrong, before something important is damaged."

"You have no idea what could be doing it?"

"No, Captain. I know the first tangle is here in Deck Two, and the tangles show up in order, like a trail, but I don't know what's doing it."

"Captain!"

"Hold on Scotty. Yes, Mr. Riley?"

"The controls are not responding."

"Did you call down to the auxiliary control room?"

"Yes sir. They're working down there. It seems like an electrical short in the helm, to me."

"Inform auxiliary that they have navigational controls right now, and then get someone to see if the problem is right here, or in a circuit somewhere else in the ship. Scotty, are you on Deck Two?"

"Aye, Captain."

"I'm coming down to take a look. Spock, you come with me. Riley, you have the con."

* * *

Spock looked carefully at the wiring Scott had exposed on the wall near the door of an ensign's quarters. As the lieutenant commander had said, several wires were melded together, but it did not appear that they had been melted. The particles had been irregularly rearranged. It was fascinating.

"You say that all these malfunctions are on a single path that leads back here?"

"Yes, Mr. Spock. Each a' these is on a path that seems to lead generally up towards Deck Three — none more than a fifteen centimeters apart."

"And you cannot determine what is doing it?"

"No, sir. It's not easy to get behind these panels, I can tell you. So even though we know within two or three meters where the next problem is going to come up, we cannae do anything about it quickly enough. We don't even know what we're looking for, Mr. Spock."

"You have to be able to do something, Scotty. We're not getting power to the helm, and I've got a hunch that it has something to do with this. We're not in danger now, but anything could happen if this isn't stopped."

"Aye, captain. I don't deny it. But I need more information."

A commlink nearby whistled. "Lab Four calling Mr. Spock."

"Spock here."

"Lieutenant Martin, sir. I know what the kullats do, Commander. You're not going to believe it, though."

"Tell me what you have discovered, Lieutenant."

"Well, sir . . . they . . . it appears they have some sort of instinctive telekinetic abilities. When something hurts or frightens them, they just dig their way out of danger. But it's telekinesis. They don't have claws or teeth. They just think things out of the way."

"Fascinating!"

"Commander Spock, there's one other thing. They seem to be able to get through almost any material. It's a miracle they haven't already escaped from their terrarium"

"It is not supernatural in any sense, Lieutenant. They have not been attacked, and therefore they have had no reason to run away. We have been keeping them in a simulated natural habitat except for when we have been testing them. They would have felt more comfortable there than any other place"

"Yes, sir. I understand. But while I was testing, one ended up digging its way thought a desk, and when it hit the floor, it panicked. It did some damage to a nearby PADD and some paper, even though it wasn't actually digging into them. We just barely caught it and put it back in the habitat before it started denting the floor. It just moves anything within a few centimeters when it panics."

"Make sure that you replace them all in their habitat immediately, Lieutenant, before one gets away. Spock out."

He turned to the captain and Mr. Scott.

"These are the quarters for female ensigns, correct?"

"Yes, Spock, why?"

"I must know the names of the crewmembers currently quartered in the rooms on either side of this bulkhead."

As he expected, Ensign Gloria Rayburn roomed in one.

"Mr. Scott, the problem is being created by a kullat that was brought down here by an ensign from the science department."

"You mean the very hungry caterpillar things?"

"Captain?"

"The little creatures from Eta Piscium II."

"Yes, Captain."

"That's what you were talking about to Scotty? They do that telekinetic digging thing?"

"Affirmative."

"I've got to tell Bones! They really are like the very hungry caterpillar."

"I do not know why you insist on using the definite article, Captain. But you are correct that their appearance is reminiscent of that of the Terran caterpillar. Furthermore, one might compare the damage the kullats have effected on this ship to the damage many caterpillars effect on trees and plants. More importantly, however, one of them is the source of Mr. Scott's problem. A panicked kullat, it appears, will continue creating telekinetic disturbances until it feels safe, and the jolts of electricity it receives when it disrupts wiring in the walls will cause its panic to continue indefinitely. Now that we know what we are searching for, though, it should not be very difficult to contain."

Spock sent Ensign Patil and Lieutenant Martin to help Mr. Scott catch the small animal, and then explained to the captain that one of his ensigns had, for a second time, absconded with a specimen from the science labs. He suggested that Captain Kirk officially reprimand Ensign Rayburn, for the purely logical reason that since it was her second offense, and had led to a potentially dangerous situation, a reprimand from the captain would be more effective. At dinner he decided that he would rather listen to the captain's complaints about dealing with tearful young women, than deal with them himself.

* * *

Humans were emotional and illogical at all times, but as Spock spent more time with them, he grew to appreciate things that, seen in his mother, and even deep within himself, on Vulcan, he had found distasteful. He saw, for example, that Captain Kirk made an excellent captain despite (or perhaps because of) a native impulsiveness and a propensity to take statistically unwarranted risks. Spock remained content with his decision to follow the Vulcan way, but his dissatisfaction with the human characteristics that he could not eradicate from his being was beginning to subside. He found himself at times engaging in (even enjoying) recreational activities with his shipmates, when a proper Vulcan would be meditating or resting. But despite this softening, there were two things of which he was absolutely certain: No amount of study would help him understand the attachment of adult humans to "pets." And no amount of exposure to those humans would ever result in his getting one himself.


	2. Tribble

  
_Fortunately, of course, I am . . . immune to its . . . effect . . ._  
—Spock, "The Trouble with Tribbles"

He had given himself away, and he knew it. Spock rarely lost control of his human emotions, particularly when he was in a public setting, but feel of the soft fur under his sensitive fingers, added to the hypnotic sound of the tribbles' trilling made him forget where he was. He felt relaxed, the way he might at the end of a quiet evening playing chess in the captain's quarters.

Unfortunately, he was speaking with his captain in a rec room in front of twelve crewmen, one of whom was Doctor McCoy, (There were thirteen if one counted Mr. Scott, but Spock was quite certain that the lieutenant commander had not looked up from his journal since the captain had stopped speaking to him.) and he was petting one of the seventeen tribbles.

Since Doctor McCoy knew he had a weakness for the small animals, Spock felt the need to be uncharacteristically sharp with him in the labs. Captain Kirk had correctly noted on more than one occasion that modesty was not one of Spock's virtues — it would be illogical to deny it — but Spock did not usually try to act superior. Now he was trying to needle the doctor in any way possible, so he made an unnecessary literary allusion, sneered at the animals as McCoy smiled at them, and insulted the human race as a whole. When the doctor become frustrated, and declared that he preferred tribbles to Spock, Spock regretted that he could think of no more intelligent retort than "They do not talk too much." But his goal had been to preempt any teasing from the doctor about his display of weakness in the rec room, and if he did not shine in the encounter, it did not matter. He had achieved his purpose. He had frustrated McCoy past the point of pleasant banter and into the realm of true irritation.

Crisis averted. Spock put the whole incident out of his mind.

* * *

As the situation on the K7 deep space station developed, Spock became grateful for his moment of weakness in the rec room. It had caused him to be doubly vigilant of his emotions, and his captain's state required that he be as calm and collected as possible. Kirk was becoming more flustered by the minute, and Spock needed all of his Vulcan stoicism to balance out his increasingly unbalanced superior.

Captain Kirk remained calm in crisis situations. Spock had sworn as much in court, and he would never deny it. But less critical situations — especially those involving diplomats — always left him . . . the way he was that evening. The captain was restless — almost manic — and he would not be calm until he either tired himself out in the gym, or (and Spock feared this would be the case when he considered Kirk's behavior at the space station) "let off steam," as the doctor had once described it, through obnoxious teasing and practical jokes. Spock was prepared for this eventuality. He had borne three tribbled days with stoic fortitude (though he had not come through unscathed . . . did he really just think a pun?); he could bear an evening in which the captain refused to answer any questions seriously, or "booby-trapped" his food, or his chair, or the shower in their shared bathroom. He might need to spend more time than usual in meditation before he slept, but the captain would be calmer the next morning, and all would be well.

Spock was very cautious, therefore, when he sat down with Dr. McCoy and the captain to dinner in the mess. The captain had uncharacteristically insisted on getting food for all three of them, and Spock and McCoy allowed him to do so. (Spock suspected that McCoy, too, wanted to humor Kirk as far as possible.) Spock surreptitiously swished his spoon through his bowl of soup, looking for foreign objects, such as small plastic figurines. (Captain Kirk owned some antique green plastic soldiers, and Spock had encountered them in more unlikely places.) He took his first taste very, very cautiously. If the captain had meddled with his meal, Spock would not let his face show that he preferred his soup without copious additions of salt or sugar or . . . yes . . . juice from Kirk's personal supply of chili peppers. Dr. McCoy, Spock noted with satisfaction, was unable to control his features, and coughed loudly after his first sip of coffee.

"Jim! Salt in my coffee? How childish is that? Go get me another one, or so help me, I will make you regret your next physical."

"Hmm?" The captain was not adept at looking innocent. "What did you say, Bones?"

Spock deliberately swallowed another spoonful of soup, before joining into the discussion. "I am sure, doctor, that the captain will regret his next physical regardless of the flavor of your coffee."

"And really, Bones! After I got your meal for you! You should be nicer to me, since I'm such a gracious captain."

"Gracious, my eye! I knew you had an ulterior motive when you offered to get me my food. I was just expecting something a little more creative. And you!" he huffed, rounding on Spock. "You should be on my side, you pointy-eared computer! I'm sure it's a safe assumption that Jim did something to your food, too."

"Never assume things, doctor, particularly when your assumption is statistically improbable. The captain knows that I have very little interest in the flavor of my food as long as it provides adequate nutrition, so for him to 'do something' to my food would give him very little satisfaction. Therefore I calculate the probability that he would put any unusual seasoning into my food to be about 2.39%." He hoped that the captain noticed the brief glare he tried to shoot in his direction at this. Whether he noticed or not, Captain Kirk at least seemed to appreciate Spock's assistance in irritating Dr. McCoy, because he threw him a huge wink when the doctor got up, grumbling, to get himself a new cup of coffee.

They learned before the end of the meal that Kirk had been creative—though perhaps not as creative as Dr. McCoy became when he started cursing after he tried to wipe the tears from his eyes with the same hand he had used to pull the other half of a habanera pepper out of his tuna sandwich.

* * *

Spock was no longer on personal red alert after his meal with the doctor and the captain. Captain Kirk seemed to get so much pleasure out of his prank that Spock calculated the likelihood of his playing another to be 13.478%. With that percentage in mind, he did scan the bathroom and all his toiletries before he used any of them. He did not want to have fluorescent orange teeth, as Dr. McCoy once did after the routine (and routinely exasperating) transport of an Earth ambassador to Tellurite. And he was absolutely determined that he would never again be forced to walk to the bridge with bright green hair, as he did the morning after they left Mudd's planet. (His mistake that day had been to think that the shenanigans on the planet were enough to siphon off his captain's irritation, but he learned the hard way, when he washed his hair directly before reporting for duty the next morning, that they were not.) Vulcans might not be perfect, but they did learn from their mistakes.

When Captain Kirk walked in to brush his teeth, Spock was still washing up, and as the captain acknowledged him he noted with relief that the manic glint was completely gone from his eyes.

* * *

Several hours later Spock was becoming very frustrated. He wanted to meditate, but for some reason he was unable to keep himself from dozing. He decided that the logical course would be to sleep for a few hours, and then attempt to meditate again. He pulled back his bedspread, and encountered the cause of his problem. One fat, fluffy tribble was lying near his pillow, trilling contentedly. As much as he hated to do so in the middle of the night, he had to contact the captain.

Spock did not want to burst into Captain Kirk's room while he was sleeping, so he decided to use the intercom system. "Spock to Captain Kirk. Spock to Captain Kirk."

He waited exactly 2.5 minutes before trying again.

"Spock to Captain Kirk."

"Kirk here." (Though judging from the sound of his voice, and from the fact that the only thing visible on the viewscreen was the hand that the captain must have used to hit the answering button, Spock guessed that Kirk was not entirely there at all.)

"Captain, I am afraid that we have a problem. I have found a tribble in my room. Apparently our scans did not pick all of them up. In light of this, I suggest that we run scans again and initiate a ship-wide manual search in case we have missed any others."

"Not a problem, Spock. I put it there. Go back to sleep." If he did not have Vulcan hearing, Spock did not think he would have understood the muffled words the captain was speaking into his pillow. As it was, he was not certain that he had heard correctly.

"Captain, am I to understand that you put a tribble in my room when you know how tribbles reproduce? In a few days' time we will be in the same situation we were in this afternoon."

He heard a sigh of exasperation, and a very tousled head came into view. Kirk squinted at the viewscreen. "How do you manage to look so neat even when you've been sleeping, Mr. Spock? Oh . . . don't answer that. That tribble won't reproduce. Bones says so. They don't reproduce if they don't eat anyway, but that one ate some of the poisoned wheat."

"Quadrotriticale, captain."

"Whatever, Spock. It wasn't enough to kill it, but Bones says it did some damage to its reproductive system."

That was logical. Spock had not thought that the captain was capable of putting his ship in so much danger just for a practical joke. But it did not explain everything. "Then, Captain, why is it in my bed?"

"Bones and I decided to give it to you. Putting it in your bed just seemed like a fun way to do that."

"I fail to see why you would give it to me, or why it would be 'fun' to put it in my bed." He did not fail to see that the mischievous gleam was back.

"Well, putting something weird in someone's bed is the kind of prank Earth kids play on each other. We knew you'd find it illogical and irritating. That was my idea."

"As I have told you before, Captain, irritation is a human trait."

"If you say so, Spock. As for giving you the tribble, that was Bones's idea. He reminded me how much you liked it before we realized the little furballs were bad news, so we figured a sterile one would make a good pet for you."

Irritation was not an emotion Spock would admit to any of his human shipmates and most especially not to the captain or Dr. McCoy, but it was certainly one he had to suppress in circumstances like these. His brain was telling him that McCoy and Kirk had done this to annoy him. He should be fighting his human side's urge to groan, or roll his eyes right now. But instead, that human side was telling him to stop arguing with Kirk and go to sleep. It seemed like a good…

"Um…Spock?"

Spock's eyes snapped open, and he saw over the communication screen that Kirk's eyes, too, were wide, and he looked like he was suppressing a grin. "Were you even listening to me, Spock."

"Of course, Captain. However, we should continue this discussion in the morning. It is now 3:16:43, and as a human you must have your sleep if you are to function satisfactorily tomorrow."

"Yes, you're right. I'm the one who needs sleep, Spock. Thank you for your consideration. Goodnight."

"Goodnight, Captain. Spock out."

He looked at the little purring animal, then removed several odd items from a wicker basket with a lid that sat on the ledge near his bed, and placed the tribble into it. He should have anticipated a joke like this when the captain waved several tribbles in his face and "I didn't know you had it in you, Mr. Spock." But he was not inclined towards self-recrimination now. In fact, he was almost ready to keep the tribble as the gift it purportedly was.

When he woke up the next morning feeling strangely refreshed, Spock decided he would keep this very odd pet, and he refused to acknowledge any of the would-be subtle hints that the doctor kept making about it through breakfast.

* * *

A few weeks later, Spock was very grateful for the soothing little pet. His time in sickbay after McCoy had managed to kill the parasite that had attacked him on Deneva was . . . not optimal. The pain was gone, but the memory remained, and he woke, almost hyperventilating, several times during the two nights he remained in sickbay, before he remembered that the creature was dead. After the doctor released him from sickbay, the trilling of the tribble in his quarters soothed him, and he woke from a dreamless sleep the next morning, refreshed.

Captain Kirk, on the other hand, looked far from refreshed.

"Are you well, Captain?" Spock asked as he set his food down at the table across from him.

"Oh, I'm fine, Spock, just tired. Peter has been having nightmares, and he called for me a few times last night. I was just going to sleep in sickbay, but Bones said maybe he should sleep in my room. Anyway, Peter's asleep now, and Bones sent one of his nurses to keep an eye on him. I'll be okay. If he has any nightmares tomorrow, at least I won't have to leave my quarters."

"Has this been occurring ever since Peter recovered?"

"Yes. I guess you didn't notice, since Bones had you in another room. But like I said, I'll be fine. I have to talk to Bones before I go up to the bridge, so can you take the con when you report for shift? I might be a few minutes late."

"Certainly, captain."

Spock realized that he was almost worried when he saw his captain stumble on his way out of the mess hall.

* * *

Spock stood back from the Captain's door after he buzzed, and waited for 15.3 seconds as bare feet padded towards the door. It opened to reveal a boy about twelve years of age.

"May I come in, Peter?"

"Yes, Mr. Spock." The boy looked a little apprehensive, and Spock knew that if he allowed emotion to show on his own face, he would appear no less so. Children — particularly human children — were not in his area of expertise.

"Doctor McCoy told me that you would be here."

"Yes." Peter looked back at the book he had been reading, and Spock could tell that he would rather be reading than talking to a tall, stern alien.

"I came to ascertain your condition and to bring you this." He brought the tribble and the small cage he had constructed for it from behind his back. The boy looked at it curiously. "It is called a tribble. It was given to me by your uncle, but I do not have the time to care for it anymore. Would you like to keep it?"

"Yeah! Sure! What does it do?"

"It does very little. It only needs to be fed once every day, and it sits in its cage. I do not fully comprehend the human notion of 'pets,' but from my research, it seems that you derive emotional satisfaction from keeping animals that do very little, such as hamsters or snakes. Doctor McCoy says that the tribble's softness and the noise it makes are qualities that make it attractive to humans."

The boy did not seem to be listening. A Vulcan child would have asked how it was that Spock had no time to care for the tribble if it did nothing and required next to nothing, but he had taken a calculated risk that a human child, particularly a relative of Captain Kirk, would be too excited to notice. Peter had already picked up the tribble and started petting it. "It's cool. I'm going to name it 'Rocky.'"

Rather than ask why one would choose a name like "Rocky" for something so un-rock-like, Spock left the boy with his new plaything.

* * *

The next morning as he walked in to breakfast, Captain Kirk smiled at him.

"Hey Spock! I'm almost done here, and I'm going to see Bones. I might be late again. Don't look so concerned! I just want to see if he will let Peter hang out with him for a while this morning. He slept like a baby last night. At least, I did, and he says he didn't wake up during the night, and he looks great. He even said he was bored, so I figured he might be able to make himself useful to Bones, if Bones doesn't mind getting Peter and a tribble. Speaking of which, thanks for giving that to him. He's been carrying it around in his pocket, and he insisted that I put it right near his bed when he was sleeping."

"It was no sacrifice. Vulcans do not keep pets."

"No? What about those sehlat things your mother was talking about?"

"Adult Vulcans do not keep pets."

"I see. Well, it was just a prank gift, anyway. I was surprised you didn't get rid of it right away."

"I could see no logical alternative to keeping it, since Doctor McCoy had finished examining it."

"You could have given it to another crewmember. Anyway, that's beside the point. I just wanted to make sure someone said 'thank you.' I asked Peter if he did, and he says he can't remember. If I remember anything from that age, that means he didn't, but he is foggy enough on the details to feel he can say he doesn't remember, but not necessarily be lying. Pre-teen boys on Earth have never been known for their good manners."

"It is of no consequence, captain. It was the logical decision."

"Naturally. Say, Vulcan children are always polite, right? Would you have forgotten to say 'Thank you'?"

"One does not thank logic, Captain, so my opportunities to do so were few and far between."

The Captain laughed. "I don't know, Spock. I can't imagine your mother letting you off the hook with that excuse. But, I've got to go. And just in case there was any illogical emotion in your decision to give Peter that tribble: Thank you, from him and from me."

"You are very welcome, Jim."


	3. Cat

  
_A lovely animal, Captain. I find myself strangely drawn to it._  
—Spock, "Assignment Earth"

"So, this is goodbye, then."

"Yes, Captain."

"Spock, we've just finished eating dinner together in my apartment. I'm on shore leave, and you're not even in Starfleet any more. And I . . . you say I may never see you again. Couldn't you call me Jim?"

But that was why he had said "Captain." Because to say "Jim" was to admit the very closeness that he was trying to escape. Jim represented all those emotional attachments that were compromising his pursuit of knowledge and logic. The captain, though . . . the captain represented discipline and order — aspects of his Starfleet career that he could be proud of as a Vulcan. Still . . .

"Yes, Jim. This is goodbye."

"Well, then . . ." They were standing awkwardly in the entrance hall to Jim's — the captain's — apartment. "Well . . . if it is goodbye forever, I don't like the idea of you going off with nothing to remember us by. You and I have served together for five years. Maybe that isn't as long for a Vulcan as it is for a human, but still . . . well . . . anyway . . . I have a few things for you. First these." Ji- Captain Kirk fumbled around in his pocket and brought out two chess pieces — a black pawn and a white pawn. "I know you have your own chess set, but I stole these from one of the rec rooms on the Enterprise." He chuckled a little at Spock's expression. "Don't worry. I took pawns because I knew there were some extras around, so people can still play. But I wanted you to have them to remember the ship, and the games we played . . . and I know Vulcans aren't sentimental, but your human half will appreciate them, Spock, right?"

 _No, it will not. I will not allow myself to appreciate it._ "Of course, Jim. I am gratified that you would think to give them to me."

"The other thing. Well . . . it's not exactly a thing, and you can say 'no' and I won't be offended. I saw it, and I thought of you, and I got it, but I know this could be a terrible gift. One minute, Spock."

The captain came back with a tiny bundle of fur in his hands.

"You really liked that cat we came across once — remember, when we went back in time to the NASA shuttle launch? — and I thought a cat might be well suited to Vulcan's climate. I saw this kitten in a pet shop. It would be like having a little bit of Earth there. Your mother would like it too, I bet. My mother always said giving animals was rude, but . . ."

Spock took the tiny black creature in his hand as Jim's rambling trailed off, and he touched its head. But he stopped himself from actually stroking it. He would not be drawn in. On the other hand, when he saw the nervously hopeful look in Jim's eyes, he couldn't say "no."

"Thank you, Jim. It is a thoughtful gift."

"Oh, good. I'm glad you want to keep it. I got a little traveling cage and all the stuff you'll need so you wouldn't have to get it anything until you're settled on Vulcan. One more minute. I'll get it, too. He jogged back to his bedroom and reappeared with a small crate, and a canvas bag filled with cat supplies.

"Well, that's all I guess, Spock."

"Yes, Captain." Spock raised his hand in the Vulcan salute. "Live long and prosper."

"Jim, Spock, Jim. You, too. Live long and prosper, Spock. Goodbye."

As he stood in the doorway, the crate in one hand, and the bag of cat supplies in the other, he turned. "Goodbye, Jim." And then he walked quickly away.

He could not keep the kitten. It would be useless, if not detrimental, to him as he sought to achieve _kolinahr_. It would be illogical to keep a pet that must eat meat to survive in a vegetarian society, and there was no reason to put it through the stress of a journey away from its own planet. He would give it to someone in his mother's family. He was going to take leave of them before he left for Vulcan, and he was sure that someone would know what to do with the little creature. The chess pieces, though . . . surely it would be illogical to throw them away.


	4. Sehlat

  
_On Vulcan the teddy bears are alive…and they have six inch fangs_  
—Spock, "Journey to Babel"

It was so strange, being surrounded by things simultaneously familiar and unfamiliar. Spock looked at the street in front of him. He had grown up here, they told him, and he was just beginning to recall it. There were moments when he would look at something, and it would trigger a flash of memory: A doorway to a courtyard opened, and suddenly in his mind he saw a boy walking out — a boy he instinctively knew he did not like; Wind blew through the leaves of a huge tree, and he remembered a beautiful woman, his mother, stopping to rest in its shade as they walked home from a visit.

Today the flash of memory was different. He had seen a young Vulcan boy playing with a large animal, a sehlat. Spock could tell that the child had affection for the beast, for he was young, and not very practiced in emotional control. The boy was not merely leading the animal along for the purpose of exercise. He was surreptitiously petting the animal, and scratching its head. As he watched, Spock recalled an animal very like that — an animal that he once petted and loved, despite his attempt to be true to his Vulcan heritage. He remembered feeling affection for it, and he remembered feeling intense pain as he watched it die. The memory was confusing. For as the memory ran through his head, at times he was himself, playing with his sehlat, and at other times he was watching himself hover over its dead body. The only thing that was not confusing about the memory was the pain. That was sharply clear.

Spock was walking to his quarters to rest and meditate as he considered this new memory, when he heard two people conversing in intense whispers. One was his mother, and the other was . . . Jim.

"I have been and always shall be your friend." Spock had remembered saying that to Jim, but he still did not understand his own words. His father told him that he had died, and Jim and the others with him had risked everything to bring him back. Had Jim felt at Spock's death, what Spock felt at his sehlat's death? Or had he perhaps felt worse pain? He realized that the two people were speaking about him. It was illogical to desire to overhear a private conversation, but he stopped to listen anyway.

"They don't know how to really bring him back, Mrs. Sarek. They are full Vulcan, and he is half human. They are filling his head with facts and logic and reason, but our Spock — your son, and my best friend — he had learned the value of emotions. He was a Vulcan, yes, but he felt friendship and the happiness and sadness that comes with it."

"I am as worried as you are, Admiral Kirk. But I have honored the Vulcan way since I came here, and I believe that it is good. I cannot suggest that Spock be taught any other."

"But this is not about teaching, or about following the Vulcan way; this is about who Spock is. It takes courage to allow emotions. For every good one, there is another bad. For every moment of intense joy there is a moment of intense sadness. Every friend will one day be lost. I've learned that, experienced that, in the hardest ways possible, and I've borne it. But I never had a choice. I'm human. Spock had a choice, and he made the choice to accept the pain because he decided it was worth it. He values emotion, and that _must_ be returned to him as well."

"Admiral Kirk, don't you think I know that? But my son chose to be Vulcan. Were it not for that, the Vulcan healers would have been unable to restore his _katra_ to his body, so we must be thankful for his decision. They are teaching him the only things they can. Facts and reason can be taught. And even if we insisted that we teach Spock ourselves, how could we give him his emotions? They were strong and valuable because he fought for them — because he learned them through long, sometimes hard, experience. He cannot sit in front of a computer and have them programmed into his brain."

"But isn't there anything we can do? Sometimes I think if I spent more time with him . . . He recognized me right after the ceremony, you know, even though he clearly doesn't remember much. But I don't know how much that would help. His friendship with me is deep, but our relationship is on two different planes. We are fellow men but we are also captain and officer. That was confusing enough to him before this happened, so I'm afraid his memories of me might confuse him further. Couldn't we give him something, or introduce him to someone who makes him feel things like affection and love without any complications? What if we gave him one of those . . . I was thinking of them because I saw one last week . . . those teddy bear things? Pets aren't very complicated, and you mentioned once that Spock had one when he was little."

"A sehlat? I see what you mean, and it is an interesting thought. Perhaps that would raise some emotional memories. But then . . ."

Spock started walking before he could hear any more. There was that sehlat again — that memory. And Jim and his Mother wanted him to remember his pet sehlat. They thought it would help him to relearn emotion and friendship. So those things that Jim spoke of were related to the way he felt about his pet. Jim had spoken of friendship always being accompanied by pain. And Spock was beginning to understand pain — the pain of losing something beloved. That, Spock decided, must have been what he meant when he said to Jim, "I have been, and always shall be your friend." Before he lost his life and gained it again, he had been willing to risk suffering the kind of pain he had felt as a small boy when his pet sehlat died. It was a fascinating thought, but a frightening one as well.

Then another thought occurred to him, and it was frightening indeed. He had re-learned xenobiology under the tutelage of the Vulcan healers, and he knew that humans rarely lived past eighty, while Vulcans usually lived beyond two hundred years. He did not have enough information to calculate it precisely, but he knew that the probability that Jim would outlive him could not be more than 5.7%. So, at one time he had been willing to face almost certain suffering so that he could experience the joy of friendship before Jim died. How much suffering? How long had the pain had lasted after his sehlat — I-Chaya was its name — died? He seemed to recall feeling the pain as a small child and as an adult. A long time, then. And it was only logical that losing a human friend was more painful than losing a friendly animal. So that was who he was before? He had been courageous. But could he be that courageous now? He was not at all sure that he could . . . that he even wanted to. He would have to consider it more after he meditated and slept.

One thing he was sure of — if his mother or Jim offered him another sehlat, he would refuse. He had not made a final decision about friendship with Jim, but the affection of a sehlat was not worth the inevitable pain of losing it.


	5. Horse

**Five**  
 _Kirk: Spock!_  
Spock: Yes, Captain?  
Kirk: Be one with the horse.  
Spock: Yes, Captain.  
—Star Trek V: The Final Frontier

"Why don't we rent horses and ride some of the trails?"

Spock thought that McCoy looked less than enthusiastic at this suggestion from Jim. They were trying to decide how to spend their first morning in Yosemite National Park. Under normal circumstances he might have seconded Jim just to irritate the doctor, but instead he waited, hoping that whatever McCoy was about to say would dissuade their captain.

"Jim, you know I'm not a great horseman like you are, and I hate to think of all the things that might happen to us, riding around without a guide. I've heard that the horses you rent at places like this are never well trained, and throw people all the time. Why can't we just go fishing?"

"Bones, we're in a national park. We could go fishing anywhere . . . we usually do. But this shore leave we're doing something different, and we only have a few days to see as much of this place as we can. Spock's never been here. Don't you want him to see as much as possible?"

"Sure. My idea of a relaxing shore leave is to have that green-blooded alien watch me make an idiot of myself on a horse. It'll be a laugh for him and you, because he's probably a great horseman, too. I bet they learn horseback riding in Vulcan kindergarten! Heck, he even looks like a horse!"

"Doctor, I do not look like a terrestrial equine, if for no other reason than that I am a biped, and the horse is a quadruped."

"Don't you think he looks like a horse, Jim? "

"Well . . ." Jim was staring with his head cocked to the side. Spock had always wondered why humans did that. He had experimented several times, and looking with one's head slightly tilted to the side did not change one's perspective dramatically.

"Look at his long face, Jim, and those teeth. I swear I never noticed it before, but you really look like a horse, Spock. Were there any horses in your ances-"

"It is immaterial, Doctor. Your assumption that young Vulcans learn to ride horses is unwarranted, as there are no horses on Vulcan. I have never ridden a horse, therefore I am forced to agree with you that we should find an alternate form of entertainment for this morning."

"You've never ridden a horse?!" Jim gaped at him. "That decides it. We are going to ride horses this morning. Spock has to get a chance to ride a horse, Bones!"

Doctor McCoy, with the characteristic fickleness of humans, now had a wicked glint in his eyes. "Yeah, I wanna see this. I've never seen a Vulcan learning to ride a horse…in fact, I don't know if I've ever seen a Vulcan learning anything besides their precious logic. I just changed my vote to riding horses, so you're outvoted, Spock. Let's go."

Spock decided the most logical course of action in this situation was to bow to the inevitable, so he agreed.

* * *

Had it really been inevitable that they ride horses? He might have insisted that he would not ride, and they could go by themselves, but that would have been immature, even by human standards. Perhaps this was the only decision he could have made, then. In fact, since he had made this decision, it was the only choice he could have made according to the philosopher-

A sharp jolt brought Spock out of his reverie. Apparently his horse had felt it necessary (again) to scrape Spock's left leg against a tree, and this could be considered an improvement, since half an hour before it had refused to move at all. Spock looked at the two men ahead of him. Both had turned their horses and were coming back down the trail. Jim looked torn between amusement at Spock's plight and frustration at his own inability to do anything about it. Jim was clearly an excellent rider, but unfortunately, he was not an excellent riding instructor. He had given Spock some very rudimentary directions, and then said that he would "get the hang of it." Once they had begun moving, he started saying useless things:

_"It's just like riding a bike."_

"I've never ridden a bike, captain."

"And Jim, I can ride a bike, and it's nothing like sitting on these monsters."

"Quit fussing, Bones. Just be one with the horse, Spock."

McCoy, on the other hand, was not torn at all. He was grinning madly. Spock refused to look at him, but turned to Jim instead.

"Captain, your suggestion that I be one with the horse has proved to be distinctly unhelpful. In fact, if I were more separate from this horse, I would not now be developing bruises all over my legs from being smashed into trees."

"Maybe he means you should meld with it, Spock. Did you think of that?"

"I do not think that the captain means to suggest that, Doctor. I would not meld with it, in any case. It seems more illogical even than you, so becoming one with its mind would be foolhardy."

McCoy snorted, and opened his mouth to reply, but Jim jumped in. "Maybe this wasn't such a good idea. Let's go back."

In Spock's case, this was easier said than done. In the end they had to tie his reins to the back of Jim's saddle, so the horse would follow. It was not as dignified a mode of travel as he might have liked, but he had suffered worse indignities in his life, and it did prevent further encounters with trees.

* * *

That night, while they were staring at the campfire, McCoy suddenly chuckled.

"Spock, I never thought I'd see the day when you couldn't learn something! This goes down in my books as a five star day!"

"I fail to see how that is remarkable, since the _Enterprise_ has passed many more than five stars in a day."

Jim laughed. "Well, I'll teach you how to ride some other time, Spock. I'll be retiring eventually, and I plan to move back to Iowa and get a farm there. When you visit me, we'll work on it."

"Yeah, Spock. And if you let me come watch, I'll buy you a horse! We could name it 'Hobgoblin' since it would look just like you."

"No, Doctor. Absolutely not."


	6. Dog

**Plus One**

"Jim, I fail to see the logic behind purchasing this beast."

Spock was looking down at a clownish, four-legged creature that alternated prancing, jumping, and running wildly in circles, with cautiously sniffing at his boots, and the knees of his trousers, and . . .

"Stop that, Arthur. Be polite! Sorry Spock. It's just the way dogs say 'hello,' but I try to discourage him from sticking his nose into every new person's crotch. Anyway . . . It is logical. I'm absolutely one hundred percent retired now. I won't try to give you the 'I have no friends' sob story, because I do. But I'm living alone. Bones and you are the only two people I'd ever even think of asking to live with me. And I know Bones wants to be near Joanna and the grandkids. By the way, we're going to get to call him 'Great Grandpa,' soon, you know!"

"Indeed?"

"Yes. I guess you don't hear too much about the extended McCoy family goings on. Well, Patrick Riley — you couldn't have forgotten Kevin Riley. That's his kid . . . second, maybe? I can't remember . . . Anyway, he married Joanna's oldest daughter, Becca. You remember her, right? That was a year or two ago. I can't believe no one told you! I guess Bones thought I told you, and I certainly assumed he told you. Anyway, she's due in two months. Hopefully you'll still be here when the baby's born, and we can call him together!

"But getting back to Arthur: Bones is in Georgia, and even though I can count on you to stay with me if you are off duty and on Earth, that doesn't happen enough. Arthur is almost three and you haven't met him — three years, Spock! So, I got a dog — man's best friend!"

"I always believed that friendship implied a certain degree of intellectual and emotional companionship that no canine could give."

"It's only an expression, so you don't have to be jealous. But dogs do provide an odd sort of emotional companionship, when it comes down to it. Arthur can cheer me up when he's cheery, but if I'm tired, or sad, he will sometimes just come and sit by me. I have no idea what's actually going on between those floppy ears, but at least it _seems_ like he's sympathizing. Just the fact that he's incredibly excited to see me whenever I walk in the door is a huge plus. I don't know if I would be able to explain to you how happy a happy dog can make us humans. You should know it's not just illogical me. A lot of humans feel that way."

"I see." Spock looked at the dog, which had flopped down on the ground, with its pink tongue lolling out. He didn't really.

Jim was crouched next to the dog, rubbing its ears and speaking nonsense. Spock tried to think of a way to divert Jim's attention from the creature, without sounding too obvious. "What breed is it?"

"Ah, well . . ." and as Jim stood up, he cleared his throat and his ears turned red. "It's called a 'labradoodle.'"

Spock raised one eyebrow.

"It's a funny name, but it's a breed that's been around for several centuries now. It is a cross between a poodle and a black lab. I'm allergic to dogs, you know, and I'd rather not be on medication all the time, so I got a hypoallergenic dog. It's great."

Spock thought privately that the simplest solution might have been not to get a dog at all. Apparently the thought was no so private that Jim could not read it in his face, since he said, "I know, Spock, I know. You'll just have to trust me on this one — the dog is a good idea. Who knows? You might even grow to like him over the next few months. Won't he, Arthur? Mr. Spock won't be able to help liking you, will he boy, huh?"

Spock could not really be irritated when his erstwhile captain started talking in a high-pitched voice to his pet. It was very entertaining. He still couldn't see what was attractive about a creature that looked like a cross between a gangly teenager with four legs and a black dust mop. He could see plainly, though, that Jim really did derive pleasure from watching the creature as it lollopped toward the house and then dashed back when it realized they were not right behind it, so he was willing to bear with it for a time.

* * *

Over the next few weeks, Spock grew more interested in the dog, though one could hardly say that he was fond of it. He noticed that it never left Jim's side for anything. If Jim was sitting and reading, the dog might come and put its head in his lap, and he would scratch its ears without looking away from the page. The dog accompanied them on long walks, but Jim laughed when Spock wondered if it was wise to take him out into the wild. "Arthur won't even go into another room to get a drink of water without me, Spock. He's not going to run away."

The behavior Spock had the most trouble comprehending was a game that Jim called "fetch." Jim would throw a ball or a stick as far as he could, the dog would bring it back, covered in saliva, dirt, and other more unsanitary things, and then Jim would throw it again. The dog continually brought these repellant projectiles to Spock, and Spock continually refused to touch them, as the game seemed to be an exercise in futility, not to mention a health hazard. The dog never gave up, even though every time he came and dropped the ball at his feet, Spock said, "take the ball to Jim."

Whenever this happened, Jim would grin, and Spock would recall Jim as he first knew him — as the young captain of the Enterprise. He remembered Jim's stubbornness in everything — a stubbornness that won him their friendship. He shoved chess games at Spock the way this hyperactive canine shoved the ball towards him, determined to make them friends.

"I am beginning to see why you enjoy this creature. It is like you in many ways, Jim."

"You're comparing me to a dog?"

"In your tenacity, your illogical cheerfulness, and your enjoyment of simple things, yes."

Jim laughed brightly. "Well, they say a dog grows to be like its owner, so I'll take that as a compliment to my dog, and not an insult to me."

* * *

"It should only be a few weeks, Spock — just a quick ceremonial thing. You don't mind watching Arthur for me until I get back, right? You don't have any Starfleet business to attend to for two months, and I'll certainly be back by the time you have to go."

Jim had just agreed to be a passenger on the maiden voyage of the Enterprise-B. Spock looked dubiously at the dog stretched out on the floor, perfectly still, but following him with its eyes. It was unnerving. Still, Spock had kept his captain alive through countless missions. Surely he could keep his captain's equally rambunctious and devious, but at least less intelligent, pet in line for three weeks.

"I wish I didn't have to go while you were here, but it will give you time to brush up on your chess skills! I think I've been beating you because I have nothing better to do but practice now that I'm retired," Jim grinned.

"Perhaps it is because you intentionally allow Arthur to lick my hands and try to climb into my lap while we play."

Jim laughed loudly. "Perhaps. Well, whether it's the game or the dog, you'll get the practice you need while I'm gone. I fully expect to be beaten when I get back."

"I cannot guarantee it, but the probability that I will win if undistracted is 79.4397% at the moment, and should rise to 94.83729% in the next few weeks."

Jim laughed again.

* * *

Spock never did beat Jim at chess. As he sat on a chair in Jim's darkening living room and stared at the board on a table in the corner, with the result of their last game still on it — his black king knocked over, and the white rook Jim had used to checkmate him standing proudly over it — he felt numb. He was not exercising Vulcan control over his emotions; he was reeling from shock and hurt to such a degree that he had no emotions to control. Someone from Starfleet had just called him personally to tell him about the incident at the Nexus — about Jim's death.

He had always known he would live much longer than all his friends from the early Starfleet days, Jim included. He was Vulcan, and Jim was human, and he would suffer the loss of his best friend to old age. When Jim retired, the logical part of his brain told him Jim was admitting to himself and to others that he was getting closer to the end of his short human life. That was one reason Spock decided to spend all of his time on shore with Jim, even though he might have visited his father on Vulcan in the several months before his next deployment. He had begun to prepare himself to lose the man whom he had called his closest friend. He knew that no amount of preparation would neutralize the loss, but he had thought to protect himself with a well constructed suit of Vulcan logic. He had not constructed it yet because Jim was still hale — because he never thought that after Jim survived so many dangerous missions as a crewman, and then as a captain, and even, for a time, as an admiral, he would die on a ceremonial voyage. And now Spock was left sitting on a sofa in Jim's living room, holding himself perfectly still and straight, dazed by the news that had hit him like a physical blow.

He did not know how long he was sitting there, but he thought it couldn't have been more than five minutes, before he felt something wet and cold brush one of his hands as something warm and heavy dropped onto his lap. It was Arthur, staring mournfully at him. Spock had not actually petted the dog before, but suddenly, he wanted to. He gently brushed his fingers over the shaggy black head, then slowly rubbed the floppy ears. The dog just jumped up onto the couch next to him and settled his head more firmly on his lap. Spock continued petting the creature, and scratching its head. He felt the tension draining out of his body, and then, despite the illogic of the situation, he began to talk.

He talked about many things — his friendship with Jim, how much it had meant to him, but how hard it was for him to admit it at first; his stories from their two five year missions on the Enterprise, as well as from later voyages. He told the dog many things he wouldn't tell anyone, even Jim, because they were too illogical — how he regretted the time he did not spend with Jim and his other human friends, like the time he spent trying to achieve _kolihnar_ , the time he spent being dead (and if that was not illogical, what was?), and even the time he spent on missions with young cadets, teaching them. They were all inevitable, and as far as the teaching was concerned, he knew he wanted to do it — he should do it. But when he compared the human life span to the Vulcan one, he could not help but feel that every minute he spent away from his few close human friends was a minute wasted. And finally, he told Arthur that mournful secret that he had tried not to admit, not even to himself, for years: Part of him, some little part of him, had wished for his own death in the reactor room so many years ago to be the end, so he did not have to go through this. It was selfish, and he was ashamed that he had wanted to bequeath this pain to men whom he professed to care for, even to love — men who did not have his Vulcan ability to control their grief — instead of bearing it himself. And as he spoke these thoughts aloud for the first time while stroking the silky black ears, he realized there were tears sliding down his cheeks.

The dog did not get up and beg him to play, as he'd heard of some dogs doing when they sensed sorrow. He just lay there, looking up at him, as if he knew. The animal, he thought again, was strangely like Jim. That is what Jim would have done — just sat there and supported him, as he dealt with his grief, not judging him for either half of his personality, and certainly not judging him for his unusual decision to be human for a few moments.

* * *

He must have fallen asleep on the couch, because the next thing he knew, the sun was out, and he was feeling a bit stiff. (He still had many years left, but he was beginning to feel his age.) The warmth against the side of his leg was radiating from the dog, who had curled up in a ball next to him. When he stood up to stretch, the dog jumped off the couch and did as well. It looked up at him, and yawned, and then began prancing around in a way that Spock knew (both because Jim had told him, and because he had ignored it, to his chagrin, on the second day after Jim had left) meant it needed to be let out.

Spock opened the front door, and then stood on the porch watching the dog. Once it had done its business, it began to gambol around the yard, sniffing and exploring, as if it had never seen the outdoors before. The dog ran in circles for a few minutes, to drain off its excess energy, and suddenly it stopped and snuffed enthusiastically at something in the grass, its whole body quivering. Then it ran up to Spock and, dropping a large, slimy stick at his feet, it looked up at him with its tongue lolling out of the side of his mouth, and with what Jim called a "doggy smile" on its face, convinced that this time Spock would pick up the stick and throw it for him.

Spock looked down at the dog for a moment, and then he smiled. It was an honest smile, the like of which few people had seen on his face. He could not help smiling at that familiar enthusiastic friendliness, even if it was from Jim's dog, not Jim himself. He picked up the stick with the very tips of his fingers and threw it as far as he could. As he watched the dog galumphing after the stick, he realized he had decided to keep it. He would keep Arthur in memory of Jim. Spock was certain that a starship could be modified to house one dog, and it would be illogical for Starfleet to refuse this one concession to a man who had helped save Earth at least twice.


End file.
